


Heathens

by whimsicality



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, For Want of a Veronica, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Preternatural Politics, Romance, Shapeshifter Logan, Shifter Dynamics, Supernatural Elements, pack as family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicality/pseuds/whimsicality
Summary: Veronica’s life is going pretty great. Her new business is doing well, her long-term boyfriend just moved in with her, and for once in her life she would not be voted ‘most likely to attract danger’ out of everyone in her social group.She knows better than to be optimistic.





	1. the fact that i'm alive is why i still believe in miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I read the first Anita Blake novel and saw that her best friend was a blonde PI named Ronnie, I’ve wanted to write a story in which Ronnie was actually Veronica Mars. It took a decade for me to get around to it, but here we finally are. For VMars fans, familiarity with the AB verse will help you understand certain things, but isn’t necessary to enjoy this story.
> 
> On a continuity note, we’re pretending that book one of Anita Blake takes place in 2014, a decade after season 1 of Veronica Mars, so that I don’t have to spend any time figuring out what kind of technology and other anachronisms there are from 1993. This fic begins before that book, and then will continue on into the series. Also, VMars season 3 didn’t happen because fuck season 3. And I love the movie and subsequent books, but clearly they didn’t happen either.

Veronica wondered, sometimes, what her life would have been like if Neptune had been a bit more like St. Louis. What the hellscape of her teenage years would have looked like if she hadn’t just had human monsters to deal with. How would Madison Sinclaire or Dick Casablancas have reacted to being bitten by a shifter? Not well, although she could picture Madison as a vampire groupie. One of the women who frequented Guilty Pleasures in giggling packs, not even bothering to take off their gigantic wedding rings as they stuffed twenties into g-strings and swooned when a vampire fed on stage.

The already high murder rate would have spiked. There definitely would have been more sex shops, nightclubs, paparazzo, and other sleazeballs taking advantage of the preternatural craze. Don Lamb would have been so far out of his league that maybe he’d have actually gotten fired, or killed, instead of losing to her father’s reelection campaign during Veronica’s first year at Stanford.

She didn’t know if the class warfare would have been worse, or better. As far as she could tell, being a shifter or a vampire didn’t exempt you from the have-have not divide.

It might have just made things bloodier.

“What’s going on in that devious little brain of yours?” her boyfriend asked, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She pouted at him, visible in their reflection in the sliding glass door. “Little? I think I’m offended.”

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, making her shiver. “Size doesn’t matter. I thought you knew that by now, Ronnie.”

She turned at that, squirming in his arms until her chin was propped on his sternum and her hands were curled around his exposed hip bones. “Oh doesn’t it? And here I thought you were spoiling me, size _and_ skill.”

“Well I have to bring a lot to the table, to match up to Veronica Mars,” he teased, his smirk less sharp than it had been in high school, but still more than enough to make her heart race.

Veronica rose up on her toes, not quite tall enough to reach his lips. But he bent to meet her and they were both smiling when they kissed. Ten years, college and careers, life changing tragedies, none of it had dulled the heat between them, the electric sizzle under her skin she’d craved ever since that day at the Camelot.

When she pulled back, breathless, his eyes were green and gold. Inhuman. It didn’t surprise her anymore, just another facet of the man she loved with more confidence than she’d known how to have when she was sixteen. It did, however, remind her of things she was less comfortable with, and she grimaced, settling back on her heels.

“Do you really have to go to that meeting tomorrow? You can just be my kept man. Look pretty, wear no clothes, feed my endless appetite.”

“For sex or food?” he asked, the skin around his vivid eyes crinkling.

“Both of course.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her again, a soft, slow teasing brush of lips before pulling away faster than she could follow. “I have to go. There’s an established pard here, and the only way for me to live here without causing more trouble than we need to deal with is for me to become a part of it.

“Fine,” she said with an overly-dramatic sigh, the kind that would heave bosoms if she’d had enough bosoms to heave. “I suppose I can share you with the rest of the world. If I must.”

“Your generosity will be remembered,” Logan told her with a grin, then picked her up, guiding her legs around his waist. “But tonight, you don’t have to share me with anyone at all.”

“Good,” Veronica said, twining her arms around his neck possessively as she dragged her teeth over his bottom lip and relished the soft growl that rumbled in his chest. “I was never the type to share my toys."

“That does not surprise me at all,” Logan murmured against her lips. His hands slid beneath her t-shirt and his thumbs brushed over her rib cage, making her squirm. “I’m choosing not to comment on being one of your toys.”

Veronica looked at him through her lashes, coy. “Well you’re definitely more fun than my other toys.”

“Oh, is that so? How are you judging this? Is there a scale of enjoyment? Does having multiple orgasms break the scale? Have you run tests?” Logan asked as he carried her down the hall toward their bedroom, mouth curved into a suggestive smirk.

“Well now I want to run tests. Of course, if you’re the one using them… well that might skew the results.” Veronica managed to keep her voice steady, just the right amount of implication in her tone. Her skin was flushed, arousal heightened by the image of Logan teasing her with some of the toys that had kept her company during the months he’d spent recovering from his attack.

Even now, after nearly a decade together only broken by the months costs to them by her foolish pride or his, and there were still new experiences to be had. New pleasures to discover.

Logan’s answering laugh was low, rougher than it would have been before his change, and it, combined with the hunger in his eyes, made her toes curl. “We’ll have to be thorough. Exhaustive. Make sure to explore every variable.”

“I think we can manage that,” she said, her voice breathy from genuine desire instead of her usual teasing.

His mouth found hers, hot and wet and everything she wanted, and he tumbled them onto the bed. Veronica knew any such tests were going to have to wait; neither of them had the patience for games tonight.

***

The next day was a Saturday. Veronica woke up before Logan and, in an act of kindness that was part satiated gratitude from their activities the night before, and part wanting him to be rested before his meeting, she didn’t wake him up.

She skipped her usual coffee and had a light breakfast of an orange and two hard boiled eggs before heading out the door with her car keys and a water bottle. Saturday mornings were set aside for one of her regular runs with Anita, her best friend in Missouri besides Mac.

Anita Blake had been one of her first professional contacts when Veronica set up shop in St. Louis—her Animating firm had Mars and Mackenzie on retainer—and she was one of the few that had become a genuine friend outside of work.

Their histories couldn’t have been more different in the details; Veronica didn’t have the slightest bit of magical talent and Anita’s involvement with law enforcement didn’t start until her mastery of her abilities made her uniquely suited for the job of an executioner. But trauma and its aftermath was something they were both far too familiar with in their personal lives, and their careers. Not to mention a shared and unfortunate tendency to end up in the limelight with the kind of reputation that was more infamous than anything you could call benign.

They had recognized something in each other almost immediately.

The only thing she and Anita had in common physically was their height, one of the things that made them perfect jogging partners. Anita had more curves, was dark where Veronica was fair, and cared far less than even pre-Lilly Veronica about clothes and makeup. She also had a significantly more lethal arsenal than Veronica’s trusty taser. It was kind of refreshing to have a friend who put herself in dangerous situations even more often than Veronica did.

Beneath those surface discrepancies, however, they were plenty similar. The kind of women who diplomatically got called difficult, and heard bitch from everyone else. Women who were at the top of their game in male dominated fields despite falling in the tiny and adorable category. Throw in their mutual distaste for alcohol, and ability to kick ass, and they were a match made in somewhere that definitely couldn’t be called heaven.

Anita was waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building, her mouth stretched in a yawn.

“Late night?” Veronica asked with a wide, leering grin. “Execution? Or another kind of staking?”

Anita gave her a sour look. “You’re not going to be one of those friends who gets all sickeningly happy about their significant other and tries to meddle in her friends’ love lives, right?

Veronica laughed. “Definitely not. Your romantic satisfaction, or lack thereof, is your business.”

“Definitely a lack thereof,” Anita said with a sigh, then raised a challenging eyebrow in Veronica’s direction. “You ready? Or did the boy-toy wear you out?”

“Oh I’m not the one who will have trouble keeping up,” Veronica told her, bouncing on the toes of her running shoes. In high school, her only physical exertions had been the result of having to run for her life, clandestine makeouts with Logan, or keeping up with Backup on the beach. But she wasn’t seventeen anymore, and these days if she wanted to be able to keep up with, or away from, the assholes involved in her cases, a regular exercise routine was mandatory.

Luckily Anita was in the same boat, and, unlike her ever-loving boyfriend, Anita wasn’t a natural athlete who’d gotten turned into a preternatural predator who could bench press a small car.

Running with Logan only exercised her temper. Running with Anita was fun. Especially since they were both overly competitive and liked to talk shit.

“Four extra blocks?” Anita taunted.

“You’re on.”

They grinned at each other, sharp smiles and bright eyes, and then they were off. It wasn’t a true race, they weren’t sprinting, but their steady pace, just on the outside edge of comfort ensured that they could sprint when needed.

Anita beat her, and Veronica conceded victory with a minimum of excuses, most based on her exertions the night before. Her friend had all the prudishness Veronica had once had, before Lilly, and Veronica enjoyed playing the world wise seductress role for a change. Once she’d gotten Anita’s face to a satisfactory shade of red, they parted ways—Anita to her day off while Veronica headed for the offices of Mars and Mackenzie.

PI’s didn’t have a normal work week. Most of the time, she didn’t have weekends at all. Cheaters, bail jumpers, con artists, and others of their ilk didn’t tend to keep their illicit activities to a convenient 9-5 schedule. Luckily her once idle rich boyfriend had turned into a successful novelist, albeit under a pseudonym, so he could work around her schedule.

She’d meant it when she told Anita that she wouldn’t meddle, but she did empathize with the difficulties of obtaining and maintaining relationships with careers like theirs. And she was old enough and mature enough now to appreciate the fact that _she_ had a partner who knew and understood all the quirks of her life.

Mac was there when she arrived, fingers flying over the keyboard in the dim coolness of her office. She looked up when Veronica poked her head in and tilted back in her chair, reaching for her ever present coffee mug. “You and Anita have fun with your weird exercising rituals?”

“It’s called jogging, Mac,” Veronica said dryly. “You’re the one with rituals.”

Mac grinned, waving her free hand dismissively at the other side of the room, where she kept her witchcraft tools and supplies. “Hey, Anita has rituals too. Hers just involve more blood than mine do.”

“And I am forever grateful for that,” Veronica told her, folding her hands together and bobbing a small bow. “I know exactly how expensive it is to get blood out of upholstery.”

“And how is Logan settling in?” Mac asked, eyes sparkling wickedly over the rim of her mug.

Veronica’s lips twitched, holding in a chuckle. “Nice segue.”

“I have a gift,” her partner told her placidly.

“You have something, alright,” Veronica said with mock offense. “And Logan is settling in just fine.”

“Mmmhmm. I wonder what sort of stains you have to get out of _your_ upholstery?” Mac asked, one brow arching upwards.

Veronica gave up the fight and laughed, then winked at her friend. “Let’s just say I’ve probably actually earned my score on the purity test by now.”

Mac’s grin sharpened. “Did you know that’s still making me money? Neptune never changes. You should have your boyfriend take it again, let me publish it as an example of the lowest possible score.”

Before Veronica could retort, her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see Logan’s face on the screen. She held up a finger and put the phone to her ear. “I was just talking about you,” she said, with as much of a verbal leer as she could muster.

Logan cut her off with a tone of voice she associated with high school, with Aaron Echolls and Cassidy Casablancas and the nightmares that still woke both of them shaking.

“Veronica. I need you.”

Veronica sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening on the phone until it creaked. “Where?”

He gave her an address, the same address he’d left on the fridge the night before so she wouldn’t have to snoop to find out where he was meeting his new pard.

“I love you,” she told him as she hung up, then stared at Mac’s worried face for a long second before shaking herself. “I have to go. If I haven’t called in two hours,” she hesitated, not sure what instructions to give, then clenched her fists. “Use your witchy mojo to see if I’m still alive and use your best judgment from there I guess. Maybe call Anita.”

Mac nodded, her lips tight with strain and her eyes dark with memories neither of them wanted to revisit.

Veronica broke a few speed limits on her way to the address Logan gave her, her heart rabbiting in her chest like it hadn’t since she first got the call about Logan’s attack.

She’d known, even before he was attacked, before he changed, that her life would never be free of terrifying phone calls and crisis situations. She’d known when she gave up on law school because she itched with the urge to figure things out, chase people down, to _do_ , not talk. Her father hadn’t been pleased, had been even less so when she’d been drawn to the still emerging preternatural community and the murky legal situation surrounding it. Mac had just been discovering her magic, wanting to use it in ways her silicon valley career wouldn’t allow, and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to partner up.

And then Logan had been bitten and her new career was no longer a choice, but a necessity, a way to feel in control of this new facet of their lives.

The quiet suburban street she pulled onto made her feel nothing like control.

She smelled the blood as soon as she walked in the door, thick and coppery, almost cloying. It made the ravaged body on the floor at Logan’s feet less of a surprise. Logan’s shirt and pants were splattered with streaks of red. The blood on his arms and hands was turning brown as it dried. Veronica was relieved there wasn’t drying blood on his face, and was ashamed of herself for wondering if there had been and her boyfriend had just cleaned it off before she got there.

Logan wasn’t alone. There were others in the room. Most looked human, though she knew they weren’t; she was surrounded by glowing irises and slit pupils. Two were showing more of their leopards than just eyes, and one was in leopard form entirely. Veronica had seen Logan in leopard form. She knew how much larger they were than normal animals, how much presence he had. Which didn’t make it any more comfortable to be in a room with a giant leopard she didn’t know.

She took a deep breath and gave Logan a smile that was only partially forced. “So, honey, how was your day?”


	2. you’re a king and i’m your lionheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last time that I plan to update this fic every other Sunday. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your comments! I've been working on this fic for ages, and honestly assumed it was such a small intersection of fandom that I'd be the only one enjoying it. I'm so glad y'all are proving me wrong and enjoying Veronica and Logan's adventures so far, and I hope you continue to do so!

Logan chuckled, a rough, growling noise that sounded like it scraped its way out of his throat. “Well, sugar puss, it’s gotten a little complicated.”

Veronica looked back down at the body. It wasn’t the first she’d seen, and she doubted it would be the last. But it was the bloodiest. Claws had carved deep furrows into his chest and upper thighs. She hoped it was claws and not teeth that had sliced so deeply into the throat that the man’s head was barely attached. She was also very aware that Logan was the only one in the room with fresh blood on him. Some of the others were bruised, one had what looked like healing claw marks on his arm, but there was no question that Logan had been the killer.

“What do we need to do?”

High school Veronica had barely trusted the law enough to deal with the shit that went down in Neptune. Adult Veronica knew a hell of a lot better than to bring the police into whatever had happened here and trust that Logan, or any of the other shifters in the room, wouldn’t suffer for it. She was also even better equipped than her high school self to cover up a crime.

The list of things she could never tell her father seemed to grow every year.

“She’s human, why is she here,” one of the men with pale skin and paler hair snarled in an unnaturally low voice, looming in her direction and baring fangs never found in a human mouth.

Veronica didn’t blink, didn’t allow her pulse to speed up by a single beat. She’d learned not to show fear to human monsters long ago; she didn’t know if this young man was a monster, but he had a beast, and she would not, could not, allow it to view her as prey.

Logan growled, a deep, thrumming sound that made most in the room cower, the fully shifted leopard going so far as to expose its belly. “Veronica is my mate, her words and actions are to be treated as my words and actions.”

The man didn’t looked pleased at this answer, but didn’t argue, turning the sharp line of his jaw away in silent submission.

Veronica kept her voice calm and firm. “Was he the owner of the house?” Logan nodded and she continued, making a tick in her mental checklist of how to cover up a murder. “Is there anyone not in this room who will expect to see him today?”

Logan frowned and looked at the man who’d spoken before. “Zane.”

Zane boldly met her gaze, defiance written into the lines of his body, but his voice was even with only the faintest ragged edge of emotion. “Elizabeth. His mate. She’s at work.” He looked at Logan, muscles relaxing into a submissive, worried pose. “She will not be pleased that you are our léoparde lionné.”

Veronica filed the term away to deal with later, stubbornly ignoring the insistent voice in the back of her head that was telling her she’d just gained joint custody of a group of wereleopards and the other, younger voice, screaming for her to run and never look back. “Are there any humans who will be looking for him, anyone he works with or any family?”

Another of the leopards spoke for the first time, a blonde woman with fair skin and frightened eyes. “No humans. He doesn’t work, he—” she flinched and cut herself off when Zane growled, but managed a faint glare in his direction before looking back at Veronica and Logan. “He doesn’t have any family, but Raina, the Lupa of the wolves, she’ll be looking for him.”

Veronica closed her eyes for a brief second. Leopards and now wolves. Somehow she had a feeling that disposing of the body was going to be the least of their concerns. Logan could insist the pard listen to her all he wanted, but she was still human. She clenched her jaw. Well, Aaron Echolls could have killed her just as easily as anyone in this room and she hadn’t backed down then. She’d never fought in her weight class and she didn’t see why she should start now.

She opened her eyes at the angry grumble of another growl, the sound fading into a whimper when Logan wrapped one large hand around the back of Zane’s neck, pulling the man close. They were the same height, though Zane was almost skeletally thin compared to Logan’s well-muscled frame, but in sheer presence Zane was completely dwarfed, even to Veronica’s purely human senses.

“You are not alpha. You are not to intimidate or abuse Cherry or anyone else in this pard, or you will not remain in this pard,” Logan ordered, a bass rumble Veronica could feel in her bones. He shook Zane, the other man going limp beneath his hand before falling to his knees and looking up at Logan with fear and the faintest hint of awe.

“You won’t leave us alone. You’ll keep us safe.” Zane’s words were somewhere between a statement and a plea, his voice thick in ways that had nothing to do with his altered jaw. Veronica met Logan’s heavy gaze as both voices in the back of her head grew in volume. They were so screwed.

Logan was the first to break their stare, looking down at Zane, and then around at the four others in the room. “I will not leave you alone; I will keep you safe,” he promised, and Veronica knew he was remembering every person who’d failed to do the same for him. 

They hadn’t even decided on kids and here she was, step-mother to at least five adult shifters.

She took a deep breath, moving on down her list and shoving everything else away to deal with later, after the first of what she was sure would be many long talks with her lover. Logan was worth it, worth everything, and Veronica didn’t know how to quit, stubborn to the point of stupidity according to most sources. They’d be just fine. Provided they made it through today without anyone ending up in jail.

“I assume you all have somewhere you go to be away from humans. Somewhere you can bury the body,” Veronica said, and accepted Cherry’s nod with a faint smile. “Good. Then two of you should handle that, while the rest stay here to help us clean, and give Logan the run down on this Elizabeth and Raina.” She looked at Logan, glad that he wasn’t arguing with her list of priorities. “We can deal with any other crises later, after we make sure the police won’t come sniffing around, and won’t find anything if they do.”

Logan nodded, then looked at the pard, _his_ pard, with an easy authority that their volatile teenaged selves never could have foreseen. “Zane and Vivian, get rid of Gabriel. Cherry, Gregory, and Nathaniel will stay here.”

It took less than a minute for Zane and Vivian, a stunningly beautiful dark-skinned woman, to vanish out the back door with the body. Veronica hated to relinquish control of any aspect of the situation, but if they couldn’t trust the pard with this, then it was all over anyways. And the most difficult lesson she’d ever tried to learn was to give trust freely instead of demanding it be earned. She still hadn’t learned it, if she was forced to be honest, but she was trying.

Logan knelt on the floor, next to the leopard. “Can you shift back, Nathaniel?” His voice was gentle and his hands stroked soothingly down the leopard’s sides. Veronica watched in ill-concealed fascination as the leopard pushed closer, rubbing against Logan, before rolling away and beginning to shudder. The fur peeled back, shedding a clear viscous fluid, as the man inside the beast emerged in a series of painful contortions.

Nathaniel was slight, smaller than she would have guessed from the size of his shifted form, but well-muscled. His hair was shockingly long, extending past his naked ass. Veronica looked away. She would need to become more comfortable with casual nudity, but she didn’t have to start right now. She left Nathaniel to Logan and turned to the two remaining pard members. “So, where are Gabriel’s cleaning supplies.”

Cherry smiled, faint and a bit wobbly but genuine all the same, and led her to a small laundry closet, well stocked with bleach, buckets, and other cleaning tools and supplies. Veronica bit back every question as to why the deceased had needed such a generous supply of everything needed to clean up a bloody mess, deciding to just be grateful it was there.

She was also grateful that Gabriel had hardwood floors instead of carpet, something she imagined most shifters would prefer out of practicality. Gregory, a young and handsome blond, took charge of the walls, while Cherry and Veronica started on the floor, extending their efforts far around where the body fell, just in case. Once Veronica was sure they knew what they were doing, and had sent a text to an extremely worried Mac, she rolled back on her heels and stood, stepping closer to Logan who was speaking in low murmurs to a still nude Nathaniel.

He looked up at her approach and she managed something closer to a grin than a grimace. “You need to change and destroy those clothes.” She glanced at the younger man beside him, who was peering at her through a curtain of auburn hair, every line of his body radiating submission. “And I assume Nathaniel here also needs new clothes.”

“I keep a change of clothes in my car and Nathaniel can wear something of Gabriel’s,” Logan said, lips curling with distaste. Veronica wanted very much to know why he disliked the man so much and why Gabriel was dead, but she would not ask until they were alone. She trusted Logan, body and soul, and she knew whatever the reason, Gabriel deserved his fate.

“The best story is no story. You met with him, you left. If anyone asks, you don’t know what happened after that. Anyone in the community should know better than to ask questions, and hopefully no one human will think to miss him until the unpaid bills start piling up.”

“Gabriel had clients set up for tonight,” Nathaniel said quietly, drawing her gaze away from Logan. He was shorter than her lover, but still at least half a foot taller than Veronica. His eyes were a startling violet when he met her eyes for a split second before looking back at the floor. “They’ll be expecting me.”

Logan’s face darkened and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, knuckles white with strain, angrier than Veronica had seen him since Aaron died. “You will never meet with any of his _clients_ again,” he said in a carefully controlled voice, only the barest hint of fury leaking out.

Nathaniel flinched away despite Logan’s attempt to hide his rage, cowering against the wall. “I’m sorry, I won’t.”

Gregory and Cherry had stopped working, watching them with fearful eyes and careful stillness. Veronica had to fight her own show of anger, stomach knotting up as the picture started to become clear. Gabriel had been a monster, the worst kind. The kind of monster Aaron Echolls had been, the kind of monster Mayor Goodman had been. The kind of monster that Logan would have recognized immediately.

Just as he must have recognized Nathaniel on sight, a fellow victim, him and the rest of the pard. Shifter rules were meaningless, formal obligations for a task he, and she, would have taken anyway. It was _their_ pard now, and god save any other monsters who thought they were easy prey.

Logan reached out slowly, his muscles relaxed and his body language open. “I will never hurt you, Nathaniel. I know you can’t trust me. Not yet. But I am not Gabriel. You are safe with me.” He rested a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he turned his head to look at the other two leopards. “You are all safe with me.”

“Zane said you were our léoparde lionné,” Cherry said into the silence. “Maybe he was right.”

Veronica figured she was allowed one question, given how patient she’d been. “What is a léoparde lionné?”

“It means he’ll protect us,” Gregory offered, flashing her a quick almost-smile. “Take care of us. Someone worthy of being our Nimir-Raj.”

That term Veronica had heard before, from the pard in San Francisco that had taken in Logan after his attack, teaching him how to control his beast and what it meant to be a wereleopard. Under different circumstances she would have made a crack about what being called a King would do for Logan’s ego. Instead she smiled back at Gregory.

“I know you have no reason to trust me either, but Logan’s not the only one who will protect you. And I can tell you that Logan loves taking care of people,” she added, lips quirking up into a teasing smirk as she shot him a sly glance.

“When they aren’t too stubborn to let me,” Logan responded dryly, Nathaniel relaxing under his hand at their continued calm.

“You know, it’s a good thing he has all of you now,” Veronica told the pard, purposefully turning her back on Logan as she walked back over to the sponge she’d abandoned. “He’ll have an outlet for all his pent up mothering needs.”

Logan snorted, but didn’t offer a rebuttal. “Come on, Nathaniel, let’s get dressed. Veronica clearly does not want our help cleaning this up.”

Veronica flipped him off and Cherry let out a small laugh, eyes widening in surprise at herself. Veronica grinned at her, waiting until she grinned back before kneeling back down to pick up scrubbing where she’d left off. “Now I can tell you all the juicy stuff,” she said in a stage whisper, well aware that Logan and Nathaniel could both hear her. “Like his obsession with vegetables.”

“It’s not obsession to people who don’t try to live off sugar and manicotti, Mars!” Logan called out from the back of the house. This time Cherry and Gregory both laughed, most of the wariness gone from their postures, and Veronica hid a private smile. She was experienced enough with trauma to know it wouldn’t all be that easy, but it was a start.

When they were done with the floors and the walls, along with the shower Logan and Nathaniel had used, Logan collected phone numbers and Veronica collected all the used sponges and towels into a garbage bag, adding in Nathaniel and Logan’s discarded clothes. Logan was wearing his spare jeans and t-shirt, and Nathaniel had put on an ill-fitting outfit taken from Gabriel’s closet. She’d burn the bag in their fire pit that night, and they’d have to hope that any evidence they’d missed would degrade by the time an investigation was started. Too bad they didn’t have a Clarence Wiedman of their own. 

“Do you all have somewhere safe to go, normal routines to follow?” Veronica asked the pard, Zane and Vivian included, safely returned from their body disposal.

Everyone but Nathaniel nodded. “You can stay with me and Stephen,” Gregory told him. “We have the same shift tonight anyways.”

“Where do you work?” Logan asked, wrapping his arm around Veronica’s waist and tugging her close. Veronica knew he needed comfort, and she could admit—at least to herself—that she did too.

“We’re dancers, at Guilty Pleasures,” Gregory said, the faintest hint of defiance in his tone, as if daring them to judge.

Veronica didn’t let her surprise show on her face. She’d only been to the vampire-owned strip club once, tracking down a trophy wife’s extracurriculars. It was a bit more exotic than the seedy joints Cliff had done so much work for back in Neptune, and she couldn’t say that watching a vampire drain the life out of someone was one of her kinks, but other people’s sexual proclivities were their business. Unless she was hired to pry into them of course.

As for Gregory and Nathaniel’s night jobs, it didn’t matter. As long as they were safe and consenting, she didn’t care how they made their money, and knew Logan felt the same. Her boyfriend had been far more uninhibited than her long before he shared his skin with a beast. She’d relaxed over the years, gaining comfort with her body and her sexuality, but she’d never reach his level of ease.

“If that doesn’t work out, you are always welcome in our home,” Logan said, squeezing her hip. “That goes for all of you. Open invitation, any time.”

Veronica didn’t let her smile falter, even as she inwardly winced for the loss of their short-lived blissful domestic privacy. Instead she winked at Cherry. “Told you, mom tendencies.”

“I guess that makes you dad, sugar puss. Gonna set curfews and threaten their dates?” her boyfriend asked with clear amusement.

“Don’t be gender essentialist, honey bunch, and leave the cuteness to the professionals,” she told him with a razor sharp grin. “Now let’s vamoose, people; murder scenes are not my favorite hangout spot.”

“Well that’s a blatant lie if I ever heard one,” Logan muttered as he followed her toward the front door. 

Veronica snorted. He wasn’t wrong. But then, with one notable and falsely accused exception, he usually wasn’t on the hook for said murder, as close as they’d both come over the years. And she wasn’t taking any chances with his safety, or the safety of their new charges.


	3. no better version of me i could pretend to be tonight

“So, honey, how was your day?” Veronica asked Logan, reaching a soft hand up to cup his cheek. Mac was handling things at the office, the pard had dispersed to their various jobs and domiciles, and Logan and Veronica had returned home to regroup. Her covering up a murder checklist was far from complete, but at the moment she was more concerned with her boyfriend’s mental health in the aftermath of said killing than the details of the crime itself.

Logan offered a tired smirk in response to her question this time, leaning into her touch. “Not as shitty as it could have been, all things considered.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Mostly thanks to you.”

“I am the light of your life and solver of all your problems,” Veronica said with bright-eyed sincerity, resting her other hand over his heart. “It’s a big responsibility, and I take it very seriously.”

Logan snorted, then scooped her up and settled them both on her couch, holding her close and resting his chin on her head. “I always wondered when I’d end up killing someone,” he admitted quietly, arms tightening enough that his grip verged on painful.

“You did nothing wrong,” Veronica told him, slipping her arms around his chest and holding on with just as much force. Younger Veronica wouldn’t have agreed. The Veronica he first fell for would have struggled with it, gave him and herself hell before she could accept it, but she was older now. Wiser was in doubt, more cynical wasn’t. 

“The law and basically every religion and ethics system in existence would disagree with you,” Logan said with a bitter chuckle.

Veronica shook her head, tilting her chin up so he had to look her in the eyes. “Well they’re all wrong. He was a monster, Logan. He hurt them, _sold_ them. And the police, not even RPIT, could do anything about it.” Her lips twisted, bitterness to match his. “They don’t even stop human monsters and both of us know it.”

Lilly’s death, and her father being driven out of office had started the process, but Veronica hadn’t quite stopped believing in the shiny righteousness of the law until the day Lamb mocked her rape report right out of his office. The last bit of faith she had in the legal system died an abrupt and painful death when Aaron was acquitted. She trusted her father, certain other individual officers of the law, but the system as a whole? Corrupt, oppressive, and ineffective. And that was before you added the preternatural element.

She didn’t go around broadcasting her opinions, certainly wouldn’t share the details of the day’s activities with Anita or anyone else, and would continue to work with the law when her job required it. But she wouldn’t lose any sleep over her part in covering up Gabriel’s death, and she would do everything in her power to help Logan expunge his guilt. He didn’t need any more ghosts, and the piece of scum he’d killed didn’t deserve a shred of remorse.

Veronica leaned in, pressing her lips against his, determined to chase away both their demons, at least for a moment. He didn’t resist, his mouth opening under hers with achingly familiar wet heat. She shifted in his lap, straddling his hips as his hands worked their way under her shirt, fingers dragging up the sensitive skin over her spine. Veronica blessed the fact that she hadn’t yet run out of braless years as his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts before curling up to cover her nipples with tantalizing pressure.

She bit down on his bottom lip, digging her nails into the fabric of his shirt as he bucked up into her, cock straining against the seam of his jeans. “I need you to be naked, now,” she told him, breath catching on a moan as he grazed his teeth over the side of her neck.

“Just me?” he asked, voice a low rumble against her throat.

“I’m not attached to these clothes,” she said by way of answer and he laughed, rough and hungry. It took mere seconds for him to make short work of his clothes and her top and thin yoga pants, leaving them in tatters on the floor as he rolled her beneath him, mouth closing over her left breast until she was writhing, begging for more.

One of her hands tangled in his hair, the other scraping up his back, as he finally pushed into her with a groan she matched, urging him on with the roll of her hips. His lips claimed hers, over and over again as he thrust into her, gasping breaths and the wet sounds of flesh on flesh filling the room. His eyes weren’t human, gleaming and golden, and his hands gripped the arm of the couch, wood creaking under the strength of his fingers.

He was always careful with her, even in the heat of passion. Even before she’d grown up enough to trust in him and their relationship, she’d known Logan would never hurt her. Gaining a beast hadn’t changed that.

She shifted her hips and _yes, there._

When the aftershocks faded, he’d finished too, laying spent atop her, a weight heavy enough that even her new fitness regime couldn’t support it. “I love you, more than anything in this world besides manicotti, but unfortunately that doesn’t mean I can physically support you,” she told him, breathless but happy. He laughed and rolled to the side, curving around her.

“Don’t worry, Mars, I don’t love you for your muscles,” he said into her ear. “You have many other fine attributes to bring to the table.”

“Sometime you’ll have to list all of those for me,” Veronica said, a faint and entirely fake edge to her voice as she slapped one of his pecs. “And while I, too, don’t love you for your muscles, I definitely appreciate them.”

“And everything that comes with?” he asked, the lightness in his tone as fake as the edge in hers had been.

Veronica wriggled until she was looking him in the face, nose to nose. “Please, like you didn’t have those muscles before your inner furry got unleashed.” He grinned and she kissed him. “I love all of you, including our new tag-alongs. But we do need to talk about them.”

“I know,” Logan said with a sigh. “Nathaniel told me about Gabriel’s mate, Elizabeth, she sounds like a peach. But his other lover is the real problem. She’s the Lupa for the local wolves, one of the biggest packs in the country. He wasn’t real forthcoming with the details, but I get the feeling she and Gabriel were a match in sick, sexual violence heaven.”

“The St. Louis shifter community is sounding better by the minute,” Veronica snarked, then waved off Logan’s frown. She was sure that just like any other group of people, the shifter community was largely comprised of lovely, or at least minimally offensive individuals. But the leaders, well, so far they seemed to be cut from the same cloth as every corrupt piece of shit she’d seen in positions of authority back in good ol’ Neptune.

“I’m sure I can handle Elizabeth,” Logan said, after a moment’s pause. “But I’m not sure what to do about the Lupa. I don’t have any other ties to the shifter community here, and no one in the pard is strong enough to be seen as anything but prey right now.”

Veronica grimaced. “Anita’s probably not the best person to ask, given her job, but I can see if Mac’s met anyone that could be helpful. I have a few contacts, but we haven’t been in St. Louis long enough for me to have the kind of network we’re used to.”

“What, the brilliant Veronica Mars not knowing everyone in town? Did the apocalypse start and no one tell me?”

“I spoiled you with too many years of omniscience,” Veronica teased, hiding her own frustration at her limitations. Between her father and herself, she’d had Neptune wired from top to bottom. When they first partnered up, in San Francisco, Mac and Veronica had joined an existing firm with full access to their contacts and resources. But when they’d chosen St. Louis to strike out on their own, largely due to just how significant and diverse the preternatural community was, she’d known it would mean cutting herself off from the bulk of her old network. She just hadn’t expected that lack to bite her in the ass quite so soon.

She had been building a web of contacts and favors owed over the past six months, as had Mac, but shifters were not exactly welcoming to outsiders, with damn good reason. Things should be easier now that she and Logan had the pard, but only if they could survive the death it took to put them in their new position.

“I swear, sometimes I can see steam escaping when that mind of yours goes to work,” Logan told her, pressing a kiss against her forehead. She wrinkled her nose and he chuckled, then sat up, pulling her with him. “Time for a shower and new clothes. Then we can plan the best time for the pard to come over, start figuring things out.”

“As long as we build in time for me to bake,” Veronica said seriously. “If our lives have taught me anything, it’s that every child has a favorite parent. I need to win their love early, because you are going to be far better at this than I am.”

Logan stood, offering her a hand. “You don’t have to, you know. Parent, or whatever the proper term is.”

Veronica ignored his hand and stared at him, unimpressed. “Pretty sure we had this conversation nine months ago, when you got attacked. I’m all in, Logan. That didn’t change then, and it’s not going to change now.”

She watched as the sharp line of Logan’s jaw tightened, an all-too familiar precursor to an argument, but he didn’t speak. Instead he offered her his hand again, and, when she took it, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, hard and fast. He leaned back, but didn’t let go of her, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. “You scrub my back and I’ll scrub yours?”

She laughed, despite the knot of tension in her stomach, lingering fears of past arguments in which one or both of them had pushed the other away. His change was the closest they’d come to ending things since her short-lived tenure at the FBI. She hadn’t let him, or her father, or anyone else, convince her that she was better off without him then. And she damn sure wasn’t going to let him chase her off now, in this new life they were building. 

“Deal,” she told him, holding back everything else she wanted to say. “I’ve even got a new loofa.”

Later, after a shower that had her thanking whatever deity was responsible for shifter stamina, she slid a frozen lasagna in the stove with one hand while pressing speed dial three with the other.

“Veronica? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“Oh, you know, sudden acquisition of a traumatized group of shifters thanks to a violent revolution I won’t bore you with the details of,” Veronica said, in her lightest tone. “Just an average day for us private dicks.”

Mac’s answering laugh was more than a little choked and it took a second for her to compose a response. “I don’t think the word average has ever applied to you, Veronica.”

“Why, Mac, I had no idea you thought so highly of me. You should know, the feeling is mutual.”

“No need to butter me up, what do you need?” Mac’s voice was serious and Veronica sent up some more silent thanks, aimed at the being responsible for genius hacker bffs.

“You are the best Q to ever bear the name. I need someone with pull in the shifter community. Any chance you’ve met anyone while getting your witchy mojo on?”

“Not my witchy mojo, but one of my tech side jobs,” Mac answered after a moment, some indefinable new element in her tone. “I set up a private network for a local security company. The owner of the company, and the bulk of the employees, all belong to the local rodere. Which they’re open about, so I’m not even breaking confidentiality for you.”

“Rodere, rodere, wait, rat shifters? I know this is hypocritical and bigoted, but the idea of a human-sized rat is terrifying,” Veronica said with a shudder. 

“I don’t know, Rafe, uh, Rafael Cardona, the owner of company, he’s nice,” Mac said, her voice pitched ever-so-slightly higher than usual.

“Cindy Mackenzie, do you have the hots for Mr. Cardona?” Veronica asked, grinning widely and wishing she could see Mac’s face.

“I-”

Veronica cut off her answer. “Wait, I already know that one. The real question is does he have the hots back? I caught that present tense, Mac attack, do you have a secret boyfriend? Because that would break one of the ironclad rules of our friendship.”

“No secrets from you at any time unless they are birthday or christmas related?” Mac asked dryly.

“Damn straight. Now spill.”

“I do not have a secret boyfriend,” Mac told her dutifully. “Buuut, I may have a secret date. Next week. With the King of the local rodere.”

“You naughty, naughty, useful girl,” Veronica said, still grinning. “Mama’s so proud.”

“I already have two mothers, Veronica, save that pride for your new charges,” Mac said with a snort. “And yes, I will arrange for an introduction. I’ll text you the details once I’ve talked to him.”

“As always, Mac, you are a lifesaver. Expect your birthday present this year to be epic,” Veronica promised. 

“And expensive,” Mac told her. “Now go tell the holder of the Black Amex in the family the good news while I call my not-boyfriend.”

“Yes ma’am,” Veronica said obediently, then hung up with a smile that broadened when Logan came into the kitchen. 

“What canary just got eaten?” her boyfriend asked, leaning against the fridge and crossing his arms over his chest, smirk a little weaker than usual, but better than he’d managed since Gabriel’s. 

“You, my darling leopard king, have a meeting with the rat king,” Veronica told him, double checking the oven timer and then crowding into his space, curling her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. “Or will, once Mac has worked her womanly wiles on him.”

“And here you were, doubting your omnipotence,” Logan said, bopping her on the nose. “Never doubt yourself, Mars. You can do anything.”

Veronica snapped the waistband of his jeans and stepped away. “Including taking out the trash while you start making phone calls to see when all the pard members are available.” She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe call Michael and Yasmeen? They’ll want to hear from you anyways, and I bet they’ll have some advice.”

Logan saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Veronica winked at him, holding in a dirty comment about his propensity for following orders. They did not have time for round three, not until they’d sorted a few things out, and she did not have shifter stamina, or healing. Instead she turned to the garbage can, guaranteed to kill any lingering urges. 

She carried the bag to the curb, dropping it in the bin, and then headed around the side of the house toward the gate leading to the backyard. She’d burned the bag of evidence when they first got home, and the ashes should be cool enough now for a thorough sifting, just to make sure everything incriminating was gone. 

There was a flicker of movement visible out of the corner of her eye—all the hair on her arms rose in a futile presage of danger—and then she was slammed against the wooden gate with brutal force. Her body ached and her head was ringing, but Veronica was no stranger to violence and it took her a bare second to shake off the haze of shock and pain in order to focus on the attacker. There was a heavily manicured hand wrapped around her throat, holding her off the ground. The hand belonged to a beautiful, dark-haired woman who must be either Elizabeth or Raina. She couldn’t think of any other shifters she’d pissed off lately, and the strength in the hand holding her up was unmistakable.

Then the hand was gone and Logan was there, eyes glowing with fury as he pulled the woman off her and threw her hard enough at the gate to knock it open, her body landing in the grass beyond it. She sprung up in a crouch and Logan loomed over her, his growl filling the air.

“Stay down, Elizabeth, unless you want to join your mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone else was curious about it A. Mowgli's syndrome is only a pregnancy risk if you have sex with a shifter when they're in the 'beastman' or half-shifted form, which is a kink that V and Logan have not explored at this point. B. Unprotected sex is a risk of transmission of the virus although a fairly low one, and the reasoning for them being okay with it will be explored later in the fic.


	4. all my life, i’ve been fighting a war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry everyone. Was at Pride yesterday and totally forgot to post the new chapter when I got home.
> 
> Hope everyone had a great Pride and/or Father's day, and if neither applies to you, that you had a wonderful random June weekend!

Veronica reached a hand up to massage her throat and Logan glanced at her, worry seeping through his rage. “Are you alright?”

“Your bitch is fine,” Elizabeth snarled, before Veronica could respond. “Unlike Gabriel.”

Logan rounded on her and whatever the look on his face was, or however he felt to shifter senses, made the woman flinch back, cowering in the grass. “ _Gabriel_ was a sadist who abused and pimped out those he should have protected. He was thrilled to add someone as famous as me to his little harem. Told me he knew several fans of my parents who would love to take a piece out of me.”

His voice was vicious and Veronica swallowed a shocked gasp, unwilling to undermine his authority. He hadn’t told her that last tidbit. She knew he would have stopped Gabriel regardless, for what he did to the others, but she also knew just how many demons the now dead leopard had awakened with his stupidly spelled out plans.

Her boyfriend stalked forward, menace in every line of his body. “Did you even try to stop him, Elizabeth? Or did you enjoy watching him hurt the others? The way you hurt him when you infected him.”

Elizabeth flinched again, true terror showing in her glowing eyes, so wide the whites were showing. Logan laughed, low and dark. “Yeah he bragged about it. Cheerful get to know your new Nimir-Raj factoid. My girlfriend almost killed me during sex and now I’m a leopard king, isn’t that swell?”

Veronica stayed silent but stepped forward, just enough so that she could close the gate behind them. They were at the end of a cul de sac, as far from other neighbors as they could be and still be in a neighborhood, but it was best not to take chances. Especially as Veronica was getting the sinking feeling that they might have another body to deal with soon.

The leopard groveling in front of her boyfriend had clearly made some terrible life choices, assuming she wasn’t one of the monsters. If she was guilty of the same crimes at the mate she was determined to avenge, then Logan could hardly spare her his fate. And if she wasn’t, but refused to give up on the notion of justice? Well Veronica certainly wasn’t going to allow her to kill Logan or herself. She didn’t see any easy way forward. And she very much wanted to spare Logan the guilt of another death on his conscience, particularly one far more premeditated than the confrontation with Gabriel.

“You have a choice,” Logan said, in a deadly calm tone. “You will accept my authority. You will follow my rules. You will be a good little pard member. And if you fuck up, even once, you’re gone. Banished from my territory. Unless that fuck up involves hurting someone in the pard, or anyone else, in anything other than a genuine accident or self defense, in which case you’re dead.” He leaned down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he reached out and jerked her chin toward him. “Or I could just kill you now. Might be easier, all things considered. Not sure you have it in you to play nice.”

Her dark eyes flashed gold, just for a moment, and then she bowed her head, rich brown curls swirling over her shoulders. “You are my alpha. I will obey you.”

“And me?” Veronica asked, taking another step forward so she could rest a hand on Logan’s shoulder, her pinky brushing against the warm skin of his neck. “I am Logan’s mate, will you obey me?”

Anger tightened the woman’s jaw as she looked up. “You are human. You are no Nimir-Ra.”

Logan growled again, gripping that long hair and pulling the woman’s face up to his. “Veronica’s word is law. And you will never touch her again or you will wish I’d killed you tonight. Is that clear?”

For a moment Veronica thought the night was going to end in death after all, the air between Elizabeth and Logan thick with the potential for violence, for actions that couldn’t be taken back, no matter how many wishes you made. But the moment broke, and Elizabeth slumped back to the grass, offering her throat in clear submission. 

“Say it,” Logan ordered.

“Your word is law, and so is your mate’s.”

Veronica didn’t know if she was ready for that responsibility. Not that she hadn’t acted as if her word was law since she was making students and teachers alike obey the slightest crook of her finger. But there was a slight difference between exposing sordid secrets and obtaining justice for the wronged, and bearing joint responsibility for someone’s life. For many someones’ lives. Lives that had not been easy, lives that had far too few legal protections and far too many enemies. At least in high school she got to walk away once the deed was done. There wouldn’t be any walking away from this. 

“Go home, Elizabeth. Go home and speak to no one in the pard or about the pard until I call you.”

Logan stepped back, lacing his fingers through Veronica’s as they watched Elizabeth rise to her feet and walk out of their backyard. When she was gone, Logan turned to her, his other hand reaching up to her neck, which she was sure was already dark with bruises. 

His eyes were equally dark, and hot with anger despite the delicate touch of his fingers on her throat. “I should have killed her.”

Veronica smiled. “No, you shouldn’t have. You did good. Passed your second test of leadership with flying colors. And now we need to go inside so I can put on some of Mac’s miracle bruise cream and check the lasagna before we burn our new house down, and you can get cracking on the third test of leadership.”

Logan’s gaze was still furious but his lips quirked with amusement. “And what test would that be?”

“Keeping the rest of them alive for the foreseeable future. It’s not the kind of test with an end date.”

His answering chuckle was a little bitter, but he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head and inhaling her scent as if reassuring himself that she was alive, and that he could find her anywhere she happened to go. She held him tight until she felt his muscles relax in preparation of letting her go, and then tilted her chin up, silently demanding a kiss. He obliged, soft and sweet with just the barest hint of leashed passion. When he pulled back, she reached up and tapped her finger on his chin.

“It’s also not the kind of test you have to take alone. And I have no doubt you will ace it.”

“Super Mars to the rescue again?” he teased, something off in his voice.

“Like you haven’t saved my ass just as many times,” she reminded him and he chuckled, low and rough with memories of the far too many times they’d both been close to death.

“Yes I have.”

She grinned at him, pushing off his chest. “Isn’t it nice that I’m not the one diving head first into dangerous situations these days, sugarplum?”

“I would debate that. And I’m just a little more durable than you, kitten.”

“Oh no, you are the cat in this relationship. I am the pit bull. Especially since said cat,” she said with a pointed frown as she led him toward the gate. “Prevents me from adopting one of Backup’s children.”

Logan shrugged, reaching back to close the gate behind them. “Of all the many, many things that are my fault, dogs not liking shifters is definitely not one of them.” He smirked, sliding a hand under her shirt and around her hip, thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her stomach. “And I’m pretty sure you prefer me in your bed at night.”

Veronica pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “I don't know. You’re both loyal, affectionate, occasionally slobbery. And, apparently, you both like to bring me your kills.”

The left side of Logan’s mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “I’m so glad we’re the kind of people who make terrible jokes about our trauma.”

“Do you know any other way, cause I sure don’t,” Veronica said with a bright smile. “Terrible jokes and obsessive mystery solving are basically my only go-tos. My therapist loves me.”

“Your therapist charges you double, just like mine,” Logan told her dryly, and Veronica laughed. 

“Only because of the very thorough background check I put her through. You’re not supposed to know more about your psychologist than they know about you.”

“I definitely don’t have that problem,” Logan said with a bitter snort and Veronica turned to look at him, leaning back against their front door and pulling him flush against her body.

“Yes, you do. That stupid Tinseltown diary, the interviews, the what is it now, three movies made about Lilly and Aaron? None of them know a single thing about you. Nothing real, nothing true.” His face softened, a real smile instead of a self-loathing smirk curving his lips. “And trust me. I know _way_ more about your therapist than she knows about you. Unless you’ve been a lot more forthcoming in your sessions than I think you have.”

“So you haven’t been recording them? Somewhere Ms. James is frowning and doesn’t know why.”

Veronica rose up on her toes and kissed him. “Not recording my friends and loved ones is one of my therapy goals. Like twelve steps, but for pathological trust issues.”

“I think asking about your other steps would lose me the rest of my nine lives,” Logan said, after kissing her back. He reached past her and opened the door, pressing his legs against hers so she had to walk backwards into the house. “Check on the lasagna; I need to call Yasmeen back. I dropped the phone when I heard Elizabeth and she has to be freaking out right now.”

“I love hearing you get parented. Go call her, and tell her I said hi. I’m going to break out the whiteboard, because we have some serious plotting to do, Wolfe.”

“Whatever you say, Goodwin, just don’t forget about dinner. We’ve only fed one of your insatiable appetites today, and despite the shifter metabolism, you’re the one who gets cranky when your blood sugar gets low.”

Veronica pouted. “I am not Kristina. I am not six and I do not get cranky. I get understandably vexed when my biological needs are not met.”

“A sudden lie may be sometimes only manslaughter upon truth; but by a carefully constructed equivocation, truth always is with malice aforethought deliberately murdered,” Logan said, in that taunting cadence he only used when he was quoting something. “And your little sister has definitely inherited your constant need for food, and the moodiness that results.”

Veronica waved her finger at him. “No mocking of Teeny until she’s old enough to give as good as she gets. Which should be soon, those Mars genes cannot be overridden by the inherent Fennel goodness.” 

Logan didn’t bother retorting, just gave her another sharp kiss before disappearing down the hallway. Veronica veered into the kitchen, checking the timer on the lasagna, and then headed for the guest bathroom. Mac had the same inability to sit still that Veronica did, although she was better at hiding it, and that had extended to her witchcraft. Which meant there was always a surplus of poultices, balms, candles, and other things that made Mac bemoan her adoptive mother’s crafting influence. Veronica appreciated the fact that she had one of the best stocked first aid kits in the city, including some things that were perhaps less than legal. 

For now though, all she needed was the aptly named miracle bruise cream, invented just for Veronica after her partner and her boyfriend had both complained one too many times about how easily she bruised. She liberally slathered her neck, sighing in relief as the pain immediately lessened until it was a barely noticeable ache. In her line of work no one would question the injuries, but she’d still rather not be sporting a necklace of broken blood vessels for the next month.

Down the hall, in their bedroom, she could hear Logan’s voice, rich with amusement and affection, and smiled. Yasmeen and Michael had been very good to Logan, to both of them, when he was attacked. Her boyfriend needed all the positive older adult figures he could get, and the pard leaders had happily adopted him as one of their own, even when he made it clear he wasn’t staying in their territory. They would be invaluable resources as Logan learned to head a pard of his own, and more importantly, they could help him with the guilt in ways she couldn’t.

It hurt, of course, that was how emotions worked, but she knew they couldn’t be everything to each other. She had her dad and Wallace and Mac and Alicia to turn to, and did, for many things, some of which she also needed Logan for, and some of which she couldn’t bring to him. And she was glad that he now had people to turn to, safe people. People with more depth than Dick and more loyalty than Duncan. 

Hopefully, between the two of them, they could provide a safe person for each member of the pard. 

Well, maybe not each member. Veronica had grown in a lot of ways, but she was never going to be the forgive and forget type and Elizabeth was definitely on her shit list.


	5. but you don't care what they say about me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you all so much for your continued feedback to this story, it blows me away. 
> 
> 2\. For anyone who hasn't read the books, animating in this context does not mean cartoonist. It means someone who can raise the dead. Anita does so for a living, raising zombies for will disputes, family secrets, etc. Along with the occasional more intense reason.

Veronica had a sudden disconcerting moment of agreeing with Logan that their house was too small as she contemplated the imminent invasion of six leopards. They’d fought long and hard before settling on this technically two story house in a suburb on the outskirts of St. Louis. It had two master bedrooms—one for her and Logan, and one set aside for her dad and Alicia, or Wallace, when they came to visit. The third bedroom was a more generic guest room, one the realtor had hinted would make a perfect nursery until Veronica’s glare scared her silent.

The kitchen was well suited for hosting, with two ovens, a six burner stovetop, and two double sinks, one of which was in the kitchen island. Logan had taken over decor for the large sunken living room, which opened onto the back patio and impressive yard with, so far, undeveloped land beyond it. It had a variety of closets, a laundry room, and what was supposed to be an additional pantry they thought, but Veronica had claimed as a dark room.

The attic slash second story was Veronica’s domain, reserved for her spacious home office and boxes of things from high school and college she didn’t want to display but didn’t want to get rid of. Thanks to the Echolls mansion burning down, Logan didn’t have such readily available memory fodder, but he was the one responsible for most of the books on the shelves littering the walls of the house, along with the few pieces of art, most inherited from his maternal grandparents. His territory was the basement: half office and half gym. 

It all felt like unparalleled luxury to Veronica, but that was before their little family unexpectedly grew. Now she was wondering how hard it would be to knock out some walls and build on more rooms. Or maybe just one large room, given shifter dynamics.

She took a deep breath, maturely decided to not mention her thoughts to Logan and thus postpone his inevitable “I told you so”, and headed for the front door. She still had four hours until movie night, her infamous snickerdoodles were cooling on several racks, and she had a coffee date with Anita. 

The murder she would keep private from her friend, the other life details she would not, perhaps especially given Anita’s work. She knew Anita rarely dealt with shifter cases, mostly helping RPIT out on vampire related issues, but it was still a good idea for the most significant consultant to the city’s preternatural unit to know that there was someone they should call if something came up involving leopards. Particularly if that call needed to be off the record.

And Anita was her friend, and Veronica had gotten better at sharing things with her friends over the years. Had gotten better at _wanting_ to share things with her friends. And at knowing the difference between secrets that needed to be kept, and secrets that only hurt her. 

Anita beat her to the cafe and Veronica joined her as soon as she’d ordered, her friend making a face at the large pastry Veronica had gotten with her coffee.

“Are you sure your boyfriend hasn’t infected you? Because I swear you are not physically large enough to hold all the food you eat.”

Veronica laughed. “It’s a mystery for the ages, and it definitely predates Logan’s change. The doctors insist there’s no tapeworm. Wallace and my dad think I have a literal hollow leg, or maybe a second stomach.” 

Anita snorted and Veronica decided to use it as the opening to what she really wanted to talk about. “What do you know about shifter group dynamics?”

“Not much,” Anita said with a frown. “I can tell you more about the virus and contagion rates. I have exactly one werewolf contact, and he’s in the closet.” She raised an eyebrow, looking at Veronica with an edge of suspicion.

“Why are you asking me and not the boytoy? Keeping secrets?”

“Not from him,” Veronica said with the smile of an angel. “Just curious. Logan is assuming a more dominant role in the pard than we expected. Should make our lives interesting for the foreseeable future.”

Anita had wide eyes and tight lines around her mouth, but she snorted at Veronica’s last words. “I didn’t think you were lacking in that department.”

“Pot, kettle,” Veronica said with a chin jut and Anita laughed. 

“Yeah, well, this is why I don’t date. I like to keep the interesting to myself.”

“Yes, that’s why,” Veronica said dryly, but accepted Anita’s glare as her due and chose not to pursue that topic further. “Keep an eye out for me? If anything involving leopards crops up with your consult work?”

Anita gave her a hard look and Veronica raised her hands, palms up. “Not asking you to hide things or risk your job. Just keep a girl in the loop.”

Her friend cracked a wry smile. “Fair enough.” Anita studied her face for a moment. “You don’t look too freaked out. How are you really doing?”

Veronica waggled a hand in the air in the universal so-so gesture. “I’m in crisis management mode, so calm is easy. Ask me after we’ve been doing this a few weeks 

Her lips were pursed with what Veronica interpreted as concern and curiosity, but Anita nodded and didn’t press any further. Instead her eyes darted down to Veronica’s throat, where the bruises from Elizabeth’s attack were still visible. Even liberal application of Mac’s cream couldn’t get rid of such deep injuries in less than 24 hours. 

“Interesting case? Or do I need to figure out if I should be concerned about your...personal life?” Anita asked, hesitation in her voice at the last few words.

Veronica laughed. “You can say the word sex, Anita. Or even kink. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Her friend just glowered at her and Veronica grinned, then shook her head. “Interesting case. But she got what she deserved.” Or so she hoped, anyways. It would be best for all of them if Elizabeth kept her head down and adapted to the new status quo. Even if the angry, vindictive side of Veronica wanted her to get a more thorough comeuppance. 

“I’m glad you’re one of my law abiding friends, so I don’t have to worry about seeing this ‘she’ the next time Dolph calls,” Anita said with a genuine grin and the barest hint of caution in her voice.

Veronica smiled, just as genuine, no trace of hesitation or guilt over the murder she’d actively covered up the day before. “Nah. My dad would have pointed words for me if I started getting violent with every asshole I encountered on the job. Namely that he was right and I should have gone to law school where I could murder people with paperwork instead.”

Anita snorted and Veronica redirected the conversation to a discussion of least-favorite clients and cases as she finished her pastry and ordered another, much to her friend’s only partially feigned horror. 

During the whole conversation, the back of her mind was ticking away, contemplating secrets and identities and what it would take for Anita to break the rules. Her friend had never struck her as the perfectly law abiding type, and, with her abilities, a conflict with the law seemed inevitable at some point.

Progress was being made, ever so slowly, but most of the laws in favor of expanding legal rights for preternaturals were focused on vampires, who had money and the press on their side. Shifters, witches, and more esoteric folk, like animators, had a lot less leverage to protect themselves, and a lot more people assuming the worst about them.

Her personal desire to watch Aaron Echolls fry aside, Veronica had never been quite sure where she stood on the death penalty. But an automatic death sentence for killing someone with magic seemed extreme. People under duress used whatever weapons they had on hand, and treating someone like a rabid dog to be put down because they used their innate abilities instead of a frying pan or a gun didn’t sit right with her. 

She certainly wouldn’t turn in Mac or Anita if either of them had to use their magic to defend themselves. 

And until the law wasn’t more likely to kill them or stick them in an abusive halfway house than help, people like Nathaniel and the rest of the pard wouldn’t have any recourse other than violence when victimized by someone like Gabriel.

Her lips twisted, hidden behind her coffee cup. She might have done more good if she went into politics instead of law. But she knew Lamb was the pettiest and smallest form of corruption out there, an ant compared to the filth she would have had to deal with if she started rubbing shoulders with people like Woody Goodman. Someone else would have to fight those battles. Her and Logan were best suited to what they were doing now, righting one wrong at a time and saving who they could along the way.

Anita had to go to the office for a client meeting and Veronica headed home. Developing her latest roll of film should keep her occupied for the next couple hours, and her mind from obsessing over the evening’s activities.

By the time she emerged from the darkroom, blinking at the far too bright light in the hallway, the obscene amounts of pizza they’d ordered had arrived and Logan was laying out the boxes in the living room. Veronica looked down at the box he’d just opened and wrinkled her nose; Logan just grinned at her.

“Now, now, sugarpuss. If we’re going to judge our new charges, let’s do it for things like violently assaulting us and not their taste in pizza toppings.”

Veronica snorted, then shook her head. “I understand what you’re saying, snookums, but honestly I think liking anchovies should be considered some sort of crime.”

“Says the girl who eats _pineapple_ on her pizza,” Logan drawled, his gaze flicking over to the three boxes of Hawaiian and then back to her.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Heathen.”

He laughed, loud and genuine instead of his usual sarcastic chuckle. “Takes one to know one, Mars.”

Veronica shrugged, unable to argue. She didn’t think any iteration of her, not even the yellow cotton one that Lilly had bemoaned so often, would have qualified as anything else. As for who she was now, somewhere between red satin and black leather, heathen was probably the least of it. 

The pard arrived in straggling clumps. Nathaniel and Gregory first, then Vivian and Cherry with Zane on their heels, and finally Elizabeth, slinking in with a mixture of defiance and wary fear. After some hesitant small talk and cautious body language, Zane led the charge and the truly ridiculous amounts of pizza were consumed down to the last crust. Once the carnage was complete, Nathaniel offered to take the boxes to the curb, helped by an insistent Logan. 

When they returned, the pard started in on the snickerdoodles with joyful abandon. Veronica basked in their praise, shooting Logan smug looks as the trays emptied one by one. 

The first significant snag in the evening came with the movie choice. Well fed and set up with whatever drinks they preferred, most of the pard felt comfortable enough to express their opinions. Loud, aggressive, and foul-mouthed opinions. Veronica wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh, or kick them all out of her house so she could catch up on The Americans. 

Cherry liked action movies, Zane loudly agreed but his eyes lingered too long on the stack of Disney and Pixar dvds for Veronica to believe him. Gregory liked musicals, Vivian seemed interested in Veronica’s impressive noir collection, and Nathaniel said nothing but stared intently at the small pile of romance movies that had all been gifts from Lilly. Elizabeth expressed no preference, but scoffed pointedly at everyone else’s suggestions.

Finally, in a fit of frustration, Zane reached out a long arm and grabbed a random case off one of the shelves. “Here! Let’s watch…” he trailed off, looking down at the bright pink case, as Cherry started to snicker.

“That’s a fine choice,” Logan said, his tone perfectly normal as he leaned forward and plucked it out of Zane’s hands before anyone else could comment. “Legally Blonde is a classic.” He shot a sly glance at Veronica as he opened the case and placed the disc in the dvd player. “I have a thing for stubborn, competent blondes.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. She, too, had a soft spot for Elle Woods, even if she would never admit it to anyone but Logan. 

“For future movie nights, I say we set up an anonymous suggestion box and a blind draw,” she said in a dry tone, her gaze moving around the room as the pard members settled into their spots. Cherry, Zane, Vivian, Gregory, and Nathaniel all managed to squeeze themselves onto one long couch, a tangle of limbs that did not look at all comfortable to Veronica but they seemed perfectly content with. Elizabeth perched herself on the farthest end of the couch Veronica had chosen, her body language stiff and unwelcoming.

“Yes, please,” Vivian said, her tone more than a little arch. Veronica grinned at her, glad to see the quietest member of the pard besides Nathaniel starting to open up.

Logan plopped down next to Veronica, remote in one hand, and smirked. “Channeling your pep squad days, dearest? I knew you and Elle would be the best of the friends.”

He grunted as Veronica slapped his chest, pretending it hurt until she huffed and curled herself into his side. “Start the movie, _dearest_. It’s movie night, not wannabe comedian hour.”

Logan obeyed as a chorus of muted chuckles echoed from the other couch and Veronica allowed herself a smug smile. Killing their abusive former leader, check. Pard bonding night and increasing their comfort and trust with her and Logan, check. They were kicking ass at this parenting thing. And she was _so_ their favorite.

Her contentment lasted for about twenty minutes. She’d seen the movie too many times to be sucked into the story, and she couldn’t ignore the one sour face in the room. 

Veronica wasn’t used to spending extended time with someone who had tried to kill her. Or, at least not knowingly and willingly. She hadn’t known what Cassidy had done, and not a single second spent in Aaron Echolls’ presence after he locked her in the freezer had been by choice. So sitting two couch cushions down from Elizabeth, while her throat was still sore from the other woman’s chokehold, was a new and not particularly welcome experience.

The only consolation was that Logan’s rage ran far deeper than hers. He’d positioned himself between them, and Veronica could feel the tension in the arm he had around her despite his best efforts to pretend like nothing was wrong.

She snorted to herself and ignored Logan’s glance, pretending she was engrossed in the saga of Elle’s application video. Frankly, she should be grateful to the other woman. Veronica had never been one to accept happy circumstances at face value, and at least she had a very specific name and face to put to the dark cloud in their horizon. Now they just needed the scoop on Raina and she could get back to her properly pessimistic self.


End file.
